


Merely a human, born imperfect

by NarcissisticAsshole



Series: There's no turning back from a path carved in stone [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Insanity, Morally Ambiguous Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27019549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarcissisticAsshole/pseuds/NarcissisticAsshole
Summary: Wilbur's thoughts as he wonders whether or not he should press the button that would trigger the explosives.
Series: There's no turning back from a path carved in stone [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966168
Kudos: 37





	Merely a human, born imperfect

**Author's Note:**

> Hi in my defence it is 12:30 late in the night so any mistakes are due to that.
> 
> Also sorry if it's messy, i wrote this in 20 minutes and only checked twice for no spelling mistakes.

His hands trembled.

It wasn’t new. Ever since the day of the election, the day he was betrayed by everyone, they hadn’t stopped shaking. Not once. He’d learnt to live with it, just as he’d learnt to live with the nightmares of the white eyed man in the dark room below L’manburg, ready to press the button that would change the fate of L’manburg forever. He’d gotten used to his hands shaking.

And yet, as his hand hovered over the button that would trigger the explosives, he couldn’t help but curse at his trembling hands.

Because they were a weakness. He had long since accepted that he was broken, and would never be fixed. But it was still a weakness- his showcase of broken emotions all together, trying to unite what he thought had already been destroyed. It was all a mockery, a reminder that he was human, that he had flaws. Flaws he’d hoped to have gotten rid of the moment he placed the last TNT, or the moment he snapped at Tommy and left, silent tears falling down the boy’s eyes.

He could feel their eyes staring at him, looking right past him and staring at every inch of him. Everyone- staring at him, as if he was the center of attention. The most important person in the world. 

All that was gone the day Schlatt won the elections.

Thoughts like those made him want to press the button. Made him want to burn Manburg to the ground, show everyone that he wasn’t weak. Show them he could handle the pressure, he could lead them again if necessary, he was good enough.

He wasn’t entirely sure who he would be showing all that to.

And when he was about to press the button, he remembered Tommy, Tubbo, Nikki… he remembered everyone he’d fought for, everything he’d done, and he took a step back. He forced his hand away from the button, and cursed at himself for his weakness. He couldn’t give it up- couldn’t burn those memories to the ground, no matter how much he wanted to.

He heard Tommy’s voice, telling him to stop, to snap out of it. And then he heard Dream’s words, encouragingly telling him to end the festival, to bring more destruction upon everyone. 

After that, there was silence.

He was left alone with his own thoughts, forced to discern who was right and who was wrong. There was no encouraging voice, and no screaming boy to tell him what to do and what to not do. It was only him- and he felt frightened. Frightened at himself, angry at himself. For being weak, for being insane, for losing his mind to the whispers in the back of his mind.

For losing himself over a petty rebellion.

And then he wondered if he could just leave. Forget all of this had ever happened. Forgive and forget, be free from the shackles of duty. Maybe make a farm similar to his pink haired brother, and live the rest of his life there. Maybe become an explorer, and wander around new lands. 

He never realized the cycle he was in.

He would never stop being bitter, he would never stop hating himself. The whispers would never stop, and his mind would never unite. He was doomed, doomed to wonder if he would press the button or not. Doomed to wonder what was right and what was wrong for eternity.

His hand hovered over the button that would decide everyone’s fate.

He never pressed it.

(Or perhaps he did?)

(He didn’t know, for he could not discern right from wrong.)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wasn't sure whether i wanted Wilbur to press the button, and then i realized i can just leave it open ended, as in Wilbur never stopped wondering if what he did was correct, regardless of whatever he chose in the end.
> 
> Anyways, before i write another drabble with my thoughts on Wilbur's character, hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Here's the [LINK](https://discord.gg/ju4CnJaZzg) to a MCYT server where you can meet other artists and writers such as myself!


End file.
